The One Who Knows
by luckei1
Summary: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione belong together.
1. Chapter 1

**11 REASONS GENERAL THEME**: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together  
**CHARACTER/S/PAIRINGS**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger  
**TITLE**: The One Who Knows  
**RATING**: PG  
**WARNINGS/DISCLAIMERS**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**WORD COUNT**: 1398  
**PROMPT**: Table 1 (Human Anatomy)—_Fingers_  
**NOTES**: Many thanks to my betas, Z and eilonwy!

ooo

_Time it was I had a dream. You're the dream come true.  
Dar Williams – The One Who Knows_

ooo

The atmosphere was bright and joyous, not a frown on any face. Hermione's father, Charles, was in the middle of a long monologue about his daughter. He'd been talking for the past twenty minutes but had only gotten through her birth and the first few years of her life. Hermione knew he was just getting started and that the only reason people were allowing him to continue was the continuous flow of butterbeer and firewhiskey supplied by the hostess of the event.

A large crowd of people, both Muggle and magical, were gathered in a large, private room in The Dorchester hotel in London. Narcissa had gone all out with the decorations, china, silver, crystal, and roses galore. She'd even hired a chef from an uppity Muggle restaurant in the city, bypassing the catering services offered by the hotel. Live musicians and an opera singer were the entertainment, and artisans had handcrafted the offerings on the dessert table – twelve different cakes, each an exquisite piece of art on their own.

It was more than Hermione could ever have imagined.

Charles was still talking about the time when Hermione learned to ride a bike when Draco leaned over to her.

"Hey," he whispered.

"What?" she whispered back. It was perfectly fine for them to be seen talking, but she didn't want to be rude. They were sitting at the front of the room, at a long table with their closest friends, a spotlight literally shining down on them.

"Lots of spunk, that one," her father was saying. "Skinned knees didn't matter to her. She didn't stop trying to ride that bike for three days straight."

Her father looked her way, and the whole room seemed to follow suit. His eyes shone bright with love and adoration as he said something about her courage and determination. Hermione blushed under the attention, and smiled warmly at her dad.

"Hey," Draco said again, poking her on the arm to get her attention again.

"_What_?" she whispered back, smiling politely at Ginny when she sent them a puzzled look.

"Let's get married tonight," he said, his eyes twinkling.

She looked at him with a frozen smile, surprised. "But, we're getting married tomorrow, Draco," she said through her smile.

"I know that," he said, shifting to face her. He nonchalantly took her hand. "But I know you, and you're miserable. My mother and yours have taken this whole thing over and turned it into _their_ show. All about them."

Hermione started to speak but her father had just said something apparently quite funny and everyone looked at them. She smiled politely, and soon their attention was on Mr. Granger once again.

"Let me finish," Draco said out of the corner of his mouth. "I happen to know that you did _not_ want to get married in a church, with roses and daisies, in front of half the wizarding world and two hundred of your parents' closest acquaintances."

"I – "

"You want something simple, yet romantic and heartfelt. Right?"

"Well, yes," she replied. They had to take long pauses in the conversation so as not to draw attention to the fact that they weren't actually _listening_. "But it's all planned, Draco. We can't change it _now_, the day _before_."

"We won't. We'll just get married tonight, the way _we_ want, and then we'll do the whole thing tomorrow for them. What do you say?"

"I don't know…"

Clapping interrupted them and they turned to find everyone staring at them. Hermione smiled somewhat nervously and her father spoke.

"Are you ready for the toasts?" he asked boisterously.

"Oh yes, please," Draco replied, flashing an easy smile.

An hour later, they were dancing, almost too exhausted to move, using each other to keep upright.

"I have a confession to make," Draco whispered.

"Oh? What's that?"

"A few months ago I asked Fred Weasley to become a deputy registrar, whatever that is. You know, so he can officially marry us."

Hermione stopped moving and looked at Draco. "You did _what_?"

He merely smiled at her, ignoring her exclamation. "Come on, love," he whispered in her ear. "Marry me tonight. It'll be perfect. Just me and you and the stars."

"And Fred Weasley, apparently."

He chuckled, "And Fred Weasley. And two witnesses."

Hermione shook her head in amusement.

They began to move again, and were silent for a few moments. "Forget all this other stuff. The huge guest list, the extravagant…everything. They're just the trappings of love; I want _you_, and only you."

She smiled and shook her head in disbelief. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Completely. I have the place picked out, you look beautiful; I'm ready, you're ready. Let's be spontaneous."

"Except you've been planning this for awhile."

He grinned. "Well, yeah, besides that."

"You really want to do this?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

She sighed and considered his question. It was true that Narcissa and her mother – and even Molly as well – had ceased listening to what _she_ wanted only a few weeks into the planning. It had turned into something of a battle of one-upmanship, and they hadn't meant for it to, but in the end, the ceremony planned for the next day had only one thing in common with Hermione's vision: Draco.

At first, she had been caught up in the idea of the big, fancy wedding – Narcissa had made it sound so grand and captivating. Very quickly though, she realized it wasn't for her. Hermione had allowed herself a few hours to imagine what she _really_ wanted for her wedding day, and it turned out to be the complete opposite of what their mothers wanted. She was her parents' only child – only _daughter_ – and they wanted to really make an impression on their friends.

Hermione's image for her wedding came to be very simple – something outdoors, either on a beach or in a large, flower-studded meadow, a simple dress, a few hand-picked flowers, their closest friends and family and, of course, Draco. Afterwards, they'd go to the Burrow for a delicious meal and she and Draco would slip away, unnoticed, to start their life together.

"Well?" he asked, taking her in his arms and moving her across the floor to avoid suspicious looks.

"What about…well, everything. Will we tell anyone?"

"It's after midnight, so technically, it _is_ tomorrow. No one has to know, only those you want to tell. I saw you at the rehearsal tonight, and you were on the verge of tears the entire time. And when Molly and Mum started a rather heated conversation about Tonks and her shoes, I thought you would finally lose it. I kept waiting for you to blow up at them, finally let out all the anxiety and stress you've bottled in during this whole…process. Really remind people that you're Hermione Granger-soon-to-be-Malfoy, and that you always get what you want and you can wield a wand with more skill than anyone I know."

She laughed and squeezed his hand. "I love you, you know that?"

"So… that means you're in?"

"How can you be sure that nothing will go wrong? That we won't get caught? And what about tomorrow? Are we just going to show up like we're supposed to and go through another wedding?"

"Yes. But we'll already be married, you see. So… none of that has to matter. We'll have this huge secret, just us."

"I bet it would help relieve a lot of the stress or anxiety I might feel tomorrow, knowing that no matter what happens, I'm already married to you."

"Exactly."

She smiled, feeling a rush of excitement, relief and adoration for the man beside her. "Okay. I'm in."

Two hours later, beneath a blanket of stars, Hermione and Draco got married. She held a small bouquet of flowers he'd picked for her as they walked through the field he'd chosen. Hermione wore the dress she'd worn for the rehearsal and Draco left the top button of his shirt open.

He'd bought them a set of special rings – not the ones their mothers had chosen – simple antique gold bands, hers thin with a single sapphire in the middle. When he slipped it onto her finger, he smiled and she felt his love in radiating waves. Inscribed inside both rings was a phrase only they understood: _the one who knows_.

ooo

**A/N: **More to come!


	2. Chapter 2

**11 Reasons General Theme**: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger  
**Title**: The One Who Knows  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**Word Count**: 1637  
**Prompt**: Table 4 (Sins & Virtues)—_Hope_  
**Notes**: Many thanks to my betas, Z and eilonwy!

**Additional Note: **I realized I didn't actually explain this upon posting the first chapter, so I need to take some time to do it.

A few weeks ago, I joined this really fun community called on Live Journal called "11 Reasons." Basically, you choose a pairing (Draco/Hermione), then a statement you want to prove in 11 fics. I chose (the very generic, I know) "11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together." Then you're given five tables with various themes (Human Anatomy, Moods & Temperaments, Favorites, Sins & Virtues). You choose two words from each table to do your fics, making 10 fics (or drabbles, or whatever). Then there is a wild card table that changes every month. You can write them in any order you want, do basically whatever you want.

I chose a song by Dar Williams called "The One Who Knows." It's incredible. I divided the lyrics into 11 "verses", and am writing a ficlet for each "verse." The lyrics for each chapter will appear at the beginning. Also, the chapters are out of chronological order, but they go with the song lyrics. Which are important.

All that said, I really hope you enjoy this series. I've had a blast working on it. This story will not be posted in chronological order. This chapter takes place before they're married. :)

ooo

_And if I had the world to give, I'd give it all to you._

_Dar Williams – The One Who Knows_

ooo

Draco realized immediately that Hermione was no longer in the room. It was a large room, full to the brim with all kinds of people, but he could sense her absence in the way the light didn't reach the outer edges of the room. She took the sun with her.

He knew she had to be upset. Hermione didn't care much for these publicity events, but she felt a duty to Ron and _especially_ to Harry to be at every single one. Tonight she had made her speech, given her wave and practiced smile and sat pleasantly through dinner surrounded by dignitaries and Ministry department heads. Now that the party was in full swing, she was nowhere in sight.

Draco finally found her outside on the front steps of the building, her head on her knees, crying her eyes out. Rain was pouring steadily beyond the overhang that jutted off the building, sheltering her. He watched her for a moment as a few drops of rain splashed on the edges of her wrinkled dress. He knew she didn't care. With a small smile, he sat beside her, pulling her into his arms; she continued to cry.

Eventually her sobs slowly turned into sniffles and she pulled back from him.

"All right, love?" he asked softly, handing her a handkerchief.

She shrugged. "It – it's the same thing," she managed.

"I know."

"They—they always throw these stupid parties," she said, sniffling. "Every other week, it seems. The War's been over for nine months and they still want to celebrate like it was yesterday." Hermione scowled and crumpled the handkerchief in her fist.

Draco sighed and took her hand in his, entwining his fingers with hers.

"They want to glorify the War, and Harry. Ron and me, too. Turn it into some kind of… of _holiday_!" she said angrily. "They want so much to forget what the War was really like, what it was about. What we _fought _for. What some people _died _for, Draco. Throw a party, get wasted so you can forget for one night the screams and the horrors and the nightmares.

"I don't _want_ to forget. Don't want to forget what Harry died for. If we forget, it's going to happen again. It always does. This – this night, he died for tonight, so we would be free to throw a bloody party and get bloody plastered and not have to worry about bloody Death Eaters attacking us as we stumble to our homes. Only, Merlin—he _had _to have died for something more than that, right? Like freedom, and no more fear. Not being filled with dread at just the thought of going out at night; no more fear of a nasty, green glow over the house of someone you love."

She started to cry again. "I'm so bloody angry, Draco. I don't want to cry over this anymore, but I don't want to _not _cry over this." Her shoulders slumped and he put an arm around them and pulled her back to his side.

"I love you," he whispered finally. He'd heard it all before, and he ached for her. He wished she could let it go, put it behind her.

"I know. I think you're a bit crazy for it, but I know."

He kissed the side of her head. "Your speech was good."

She chuckled. "Thanks. You're getting better at writing them."

"When are you going to say what's inside _you_?" he asked quietly. He knew Hermione had a story to tell about Harry and the War and everything that had happened—most importantly _why _it had happened. He agreed that it shouldn't be forgotten, or swept into dark corners just because it was ugly and Dark. And he knew she had a lot of truth to tell, but was very hesitant to put it to parchment. She feared most that people wouldn't read it, wouldn't care to learn the truth about Harry, about what he went through.

She didn't say anything for a few minutes. They just sat there together and listened to the steady rhythm of the rain falling.

"I love the rain these days," she said finally, snuggling closer beside him.

He frowned slightly. She always avoided answering that particular question. "Why is that?"

"It's how I think the world should feel. We shouldn't be having constant parties and celebrations. There's a time to mourn, too. Just because there's no body doesn't mean we can't _bury_ him. It feels like the earth is crying for Harry when it rains; the earth mourns him the way the people who live on it should."

"They had a service for Harry," Draco pointed out, somewhat needlessly.

Hermione scoffed. "No, they had a _party_. They ran _over _Harry. Ron agrees with me. His name has been used for _everything _the Ministry has wanted to rush through. No one even _knows _who Harry really was."

"So tell them," he said. He felt her stiffen in his arms.

"Draco…"

"I have something for you," he interrupted, and reached into his robes to retrieve a long, thin, plainly wrapped box.

Hermione gasped and sat up, looking at him with wide eyes.

"It's not what you're likely thinking. Just open it."

She hesitated before taking the box and carefully, meticulously, started to unwrap it.

"Oh, come one," Draco teased. "Rip!"

She smiled and continued her slow unveiling. A simple black box was revealed, and Hermione looked up into Draco's eyes before opening it. When she finally pulled off the top, she couldn't hide her surprise as she stared at the contents.

"A… pencil?"

"Yes."

Hermione laughed. "A pencil." She picked up the completely unremarkable, yellow-barreled pencil and examined it. "Number two, Faber-Castell. A pencil."

"I can't tell you how long I looked for that," Draco said. "I refused to accept that Diagon Alley didn't carry them – as you'd told me once – so I scoured every inch of every shop looking."

Hermione smiled at him.

"Most people I asked had never _heard _of a pencil before, so I had to swallow my pride and go to a Muggle shop. First place I went, too. It – it _is _what you were talking about, right?" he asked, suddenly unsure.

"Yes, Draco. It is."

"You'd said you loved pencils. That there was something about the way they write, leaving a trace of the writer behind. Tiny, grey shavings, you said."

She nodded. "I – thank you. You're so sweet, to think of me. It's truly a unique and unexpected gift."

"There's…more. It's no ordinary pencil. I've charmed it to always be sharp and to never get smaller. I asked the Muggle who sold it to me if there was anything that could make a pencil perfect. He shrugged and said one that was always sharp."

Hermione kissed him. "I bet I'm the only witch in the world with a magical pencil," she said with delight, carefully returning it to its box.

"Hermione," Draco said taking a deep breath.

"Yes?"

"I – I really think you should write about Harry. You knew him, probably better than anyone. He wouldn't want you to still be mourning for him. He – "

"Draco," she said, putting a finger to his lips to stop him. "I – I know. I do. I've been thinking about this a long time, ever since you first mentioned it. And…I think you're right. I _should_ do this. For Harry. You've been so good to me, so supportive. I'm still trying to figure out how it is that just when I need you most, you always say or do the right thing. Especially since most of the rest of the time, I want to beat your head in. You're so stubborn!"

"Me?" he cried, astonished. "_I'm _stubborn?"

"Yes, quite," she replied, eyes twinkling. "I love your stubbornness though. I wouldn't want you any other way."

"Hrmpf," he said with a frown.

"I'm quite certain I could live with your stubbornness for the rest of my life."

All of Draco's insides, his normal body processes – his heart beating, blood pumping, the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide in his lungs – froze. He could almost hear her words making their way through his ear and worming their way into his brain to take deep, firm root. He looked at her.

"You can't just take that back, you know."

"Why would I want to do that?" she asked.

"You'll come to your senses soon, I'm sure."

"Don't be silly," she said dismissively. "I'm hardly one to speak before I think." She cupped his face in her hands. "I love you, you silly man. And I think I always will."

As abruptly as everything had frozen, it now jumped back to life, double speed. Only his grin was slow to spread across his face and into his eyes.

"But yes, I _will_ write this book you keep talking about. For Harry." She smiled at him.

He forced himself to focus. "Good. I think you should. A proper goodbye."

"Indeed," she said with a sigh, then cuddled closer to him. He knew the conversation was over, but that was okay. He had a lot to think about.

He knew what she'd said was right. Most of the people who knew Harry were struggling with the lack of closure, with trying to move on when the wizarding world wanted to pretend Harry had never happened, while at the same time touting him as their savior. He thought now—and not for the first time—about making her his. But then she nuzzled the crook of his neck, slowly planting soft kisses along his jaw, sweeping all thought out of his head. When it seemed she would stop, he pulled her back and covered her mouth with his. His only thought was of how much he'd come to like the rain.

ooo

**A/N: **Hope you liked this one!


	3. Chapter 3

**11 Reasons General Theme**: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger  
**Title**: The One Who Knows  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**Word Count**: 1075  
**Prompt**: Table 3 (Favorites)—_His: Flying_  
**Notes**: Many thanks to my betas, Z and eilonwy! 

_I'll take you to the mountains, __I will take you to the seas  
Dar Williams, "The One Who Knows"_

**ooo**

"SHUT UP!" he yelled, angrier than he'd been in a very long time. "Shut up, just – shut UP!"

"NO!" she screamed back at him, poking him hard in the chest and nearly spitting she was so angry. "You're going to _listen_!"

"I am NOT going to listen to you blather on about – "

"_You_ started this conversation, Malfoy, remember? You are _going_ to follow it through! All I said was – "

Draco plugged both his ears with his fingers and glared at her. "I can't hear you! I can't hear you!" He was vaguely aware that there were other people in the room, but he was so angry he couldn't quite be sure.

She only screamed louder, so that not only did he _hear _what she was saying, his ears were starting to hurt from the sheer volume of her voice. He fleetingly thought she must have been descended from banshees.

"I happen to think – " she was saying when he decided he'd had enough.

He moved his hands from his own head to hers, cupping her face nearly entirely. "Shut up!" he growled and pulled her face toward his. "Shut!" He kissed her lips quickly and angrily. She struggled slightly then went perfectly still. "Up!" He kissed her again, this time harder. "Shut up!" and again planted his burning lips onto hers. "Just – shut – up!" The volume of his voice had lowered significantly, and he emphasized each word with an increasingly softer kiss.

When Draco realized she'd been quiet for some time, the realization of what he'd done hit him full force and he let go of Hermione's face as though burned and took a step back. She was gaping at him, eyes wide and slightly out of breath, which for an instant he found odd, as she hadn't kissed him back. She blinked, and took a few deep breaths.

"Oh, go on, you know you want to," came a voice as though from the end of a long tunnel. Vaguely he decided it sounded like Ginny Weasley.

Apparently, that was all Hermione needed. She stepped toward him and without a word, without a sound, she reached up and grabbed his neck to pull his face down to hers. She kissed him. Merlin, he'd never been kissed like that in his life. It was angry and desperate, like their argument, but soon it turned intense and all-consuming.

Draco stood there rigidly, his fists clenching and unclenching, in an effort not to make an idiot of himself. He accepted her kisses, returning them, encouraging her by sucking on her bottom lip. There was an instant when his brain kicked in to remind him that they weren't alone, but then Hermione had her hands in his hair and she clenched a fist, pulling on his hair hard, though not painfully. He groaned involuntarily and all brain function ceased. All he wanted was to never stop kissing her. .

Forgetting everything, he plunged his hands into her hair, twirling it, twisting it, and losing himself in its softness. And her kiss… it was ravenous. He felt like he was flying, somersaulting through the air, executing a series of near-impossible moves on his broom, soaring over mountaintops and skimming along the surface of the ocean. Racing for the sun, for the warmth locked in its sphere, dipping into clouds and chasing birds.

Suddenly he became aware of her hand, slowly yet deliberately moving on his back. He almost dismissed the thought when an annoying neuron fired, reminding him that, no matter how much he wished it weren't so, they weren't alone.

Draco's eyes snapped open and he stopped kissing Hermione, pulled away from her. Her hand arrested just at the place where his body began to curve out, his hands gripping clumps of her wild curls. She opened her eyes then and for a moment, he saw everything in them.

Someone cleared his throat and Hermione jumped back. No one said anything. Draco was staring at Hermione and she back at him. He felt three separate sets of eyes boring hot holes into the back of his head, but he could barely even think, much less move.

Hermione composed herself long before he did. She smoothed the front of her robes and adopted a mask of indifference. "Well," she said, her voice stronger than he would have believed possible. "I suppose I win, then." She turned and quit the room in just such a way as to not seem hurried, but at the same time conveying to him a desperate need to run.

He could relate.

He was left with _her _friends, _her _ex-boyfriend. Their stares had managed to drill through his skull now and were making quick work of his brain matter. Soon they'd reach his eyes.

Without looking back, without word, he squared his shoulders and strode from the room and then out the front door.

**O**

He didn't see her again for four days.

He'd been called to a meeting where it was learned that the end, for better or for worse, was fast approaching. The room was full, but somehow, after the meeting ended, it had quickly emptied leaving him alone with Hermione. _He _certainly hadn't meant it to happen. He'd been talking with Fred, and when the twin left for the kitchen, Draco looked up to find Hermione watching him, arms folded.

He felt as though he'd Apparated in front of a train.

Draco had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, he was spared the task of having to break the tangible silence.

"Malfoy."

"Granger."

"About what happened the other day. I'm not sorry."

Against his will, he smiled. Couldn't help it; she was funny in a blunt way sometimes. Slowly he felt the tension and anxiety melt from his bones and he leaned back in his chair. "Me either."

She nodded once. "So what happens now?"

He shrugged.

"I want you to say something," she said firmly.

He broke their gaze to peer over her shoulder. _Huh_. "I… suppose, then, that I would like to be able to kiss you whenever I want." He still wasn't looking at her, but he could _feel _her smile. It warmed the room.

"That's settled then."

"Reckon so," he returned.

"Draco."

He flipped his eyes to meet hers, a sudden wave of excitement tying his stomach in a knot. When he spoke again, his voice was just a bit unsteady. "Hermione."


	4. Chapter 4

**11 Reasons General Theme**: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger  
**Title**: The One Who Knows  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**Word Count**: 1224  
**Prompt**: Table 2 (Moods and Temperaments)—_Ecstatic_  
**Notes**: Many thanks to my betas, Z and eilonwy!

**ooo**

_I'll show you how this life became A miracle to me.  
Dar Williams  
_

**ooo**

Draco was pacing outside the door at such a furious rate, he wondered if he'd wear through the floor. He stopped and peered through the glass, trying to get a look at what was happening on the other side.

"Hey, Malfoy," came a pleasant – and therefore annoying – voice.

He turned around to find Ron and his wife Luna approaching. "Weasley," he said, unable to hide his grumpiness.

"How are you?" Ron asked, extending his hand. "Or, more importantly, how's Hermione? And congratulations, by the way. I've brought cigars."

Draco didn't feel like doing _this_, this _friend_ business, even though it was Ron and they were friends. He wanted to be in that _room_. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"What are you doing out here, Draco?" Luna asked airily. Ron looked at him questioningly.

"I – she…well, she kicked me out."

Ron burst out laughing while Luna merely looked slightly interested. "She _kicked _you _out_?" Ron gasped through his laughter.

Draco's scowl deepened. "Yes."

"Why?" asked Luna.

"Something about letting the Healers do what they were trained to do. She said she'd let me back in," he said, turning to peer into the room again. "But that was over two hours ago."

Ron was beginning to calm down. "I'm sure she will, mate. She wouldn't punish you _that _harshly."

"I should hope not," he replied with a huff.

He was about to speak when a loud group of people could be heard approaching. "Bugger," he muttered. The _last _thing he needed was for all of the Weasleys, all of Hermione's family, and his mother to know he'd been banned, however temporarily, from the room. "I'm off to the loo," he said to Ron.

He'd taken three steps when the door finally opened. A nurse poked her head out. "Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco was back at the door in a flash. "Yes?"

"We're ready for you now."

He didn't need telling twice and had to restrain himself so as not to bowl the woman over.

Hermione was sitting in her bed, her mother by her side. When she saw him, her eyes widened and she looked relieved. Mrs. Granger left her daughter with a kiss, patted Draco on the arm and quit the room. Despite the small crew of Healers and nurses, to Draco, it was as though no one else was in the room but his beloved.

"Draco," she said, frantically reaching for his hand. He rushed to her side and took it, standing as close as he could possibly get. "I'm so sorry I made you leave."

"Shh, it's okay, love. I'm here now."

"I wanted you back as soon as you'd gone, but they said no."

"Hermione, it's okay. What can I do for you?" he asked, torn between amusement at her pitiful state and wanting to cradle her in his arms.

"Just hold my hand and talk to me and – "

_Bloody mother of Merlin_, Draco thought as Hermione squeezed his hand. Though "squeezed" wasn't the right word for it; she'd clamped down with the apparent intention of breaking his hand.

After a moment, the contraction passed and she released her iron grip. He flexed his fingers stiffly and gave her his other hand.

"Sorry," she said, then giggled. "You're adorable when you're in pain."

"Oh, very nice," he said, hinting at a false annoyance.

"It shouldn't be much longer," she assured him. "They said it would be soon."

"Okay, well, I'm not going anywhere."

"And you'll let the Healers work?"

He looked at her warily. "I just thought they should – "

Another contraction forced all conscious thought out of his mind. When it was over, Hermione was breathing hard.

"Draco, they know what they're doing."

"I – okay." He kissed her hand, then brushed the hair away from her face and kissed her forehead.

_Soon _turned out to be a very relative term, but after two more hours, Hermione squeezed his hand so painfully he thought he might lose consciousness. He stared at her and saw the obvious strain she was under, and everything around him seemed to blur. People were rushing but in slow motion, and he heard, as though in a fog, someone yelling "Push! Push!" Then she let go and her hand went limp in his. Draco looked at her; she was smiling and crying at the same time. The room went silent, and then…

A baby cried.

Tears pricked his eyes and he didn't even care. After a few minutes, during which a nurse had assured them that their baby was perfectly fine, the Healer emerged from around a screen holding a small, pink _thing_, wrapped tightly in a white blanket.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, congratulations! You have a beautiful, healthy baby girl."

Hermione was crying as she took the baby – their _daughter_ – from the Healer. Draco was awe-struck. A _girl_. A tiny, little life he'd helped create. A _girl_. Though he'd fallen for Hermione rather quickly, it was nothing compared to this – he fell instantly in love with his child.

"Oh, Draco," Hermione whispered. "Just look at her. Look at what we made."

He couldn't speak. While Hermione held their baby, talking softly to her, he took care of his wife. He wiped Hermione's forehead with a cool, wet cloth, made sure she was tucked in, brushed her hair away from her face whenever it needed doing, and kissed her cheek.

Hermione looked at him. "Say something."

Draco thought about how much he loved Hermione. He thought about all the things he'd do if something ever happened to her, how much pain he'd cause anyone who hurt her and it only magnified tenfold with his daughter. His little _girl_. He felt very small and ridiculously inadequate.

"I love you," was all he could think to try and tell her everything he was feeling. Maybe she understood because she grinned and reached for his hand.

"Do you have a name selected?" one of the nurses asked. She was holding a quill and had an ornate piece of parchment spread out on a table.

Draco looked at Hermione, who nodded. "Gemma," he said. "Gemma Elenwë Malfoy."

"That's lovely," said the nurse, leaning over to transcribe the name onto the birth certificate. She paused. "Er, maybe you should write it."

Draco nodded and moved to the table to write his daughter's name for the first time. His hand was shaking slightly as he dipped the tip of the quill in the black ink bottle. Just before touching the parchment, he looked up at Hermione who was watching him intently.

"I love you," she said.

He nodded and the rest was easy. When he finished, he handed the quill back to the nurse and returned to Hermione's side.

"She's beautiful," he said, hesitantly reaching out to touch Gemma's hand. He grinned. "I don't even know what to say."

"Me neither," Hermione whispered. "Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"I love her name."

"Me too. She's amazing, isn't she," he said quietly. Then he grinned and added, "Though I knew she would be. The latest in a long line of exquisite and remarkable Malfoy babies."

"The last one being you, of course."

"Naturally. She's almost as pretty as I was." Then his cocky smile turned to one that was infinitely more tender, and he leaned in very close to Hermione's ear.

"She's my star, but you'll always be my heart."

**ooo**

**A/N**: Gemma is a star; the name means "gem". "Elenwë" is from The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien.


	5. Chapter 5

**11 Reasons General Theme**: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger  
**Title**: The One Who Knows  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**Word Count**: 1630  
**Prompt**: Table 1 (Anatomy)—_Sense of smell_  
**Notes**: Many thanks to my betas, Z and eilonwy!

_All the things you treasure most, will be the hardest won_

_Dar Williams_

**ooo**

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Hermione asked.

He stared in front of him at the large house and took a deep breath. "Yes," he said, but she heard the uncertainty in his voice.

"Draco, you don't have to be here."

"It's my _home_," he said through gritted teeth.

Hermione said nothing more and took his hand. He let her, but he didn't encourage her, holding his arm stiffly to his side. She let it go. They were standing with a group of Aurors outside Malfoy Manor, waiting. Lucius Malfoy had finally been captured and Narcissa, who had defected soon after her son, had given the house up.

Malfoy Manor had been the site of at least a dozen battles during the War, each one scarring the house and grounds. Windows were broken, large portions of the lawns scorched, and a large section of the south wing had been blown apart, exposing the interior of the house to the elements.

The Ministry wanted the property searched and all Dark artifacts seized. Draco had appealed for and been given the right to remove personal effects before the house was searched.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Auror in charge of this 'operation,' came out of the house through the half-hinged front door and declared it officially safe and free from wards.

Everyone looked to Draco, who took a few deep breaths and stalked through the front door without a word. Hermione wasn't sure if she should follow him. He'd said he wanted her there with him, but as soon as he'd set eyes on the home he'd grown up in, where he hadn't been in over a year, he'd closed himself off completely, throwing up bars and windows and padlocks.

She went to the door and chatted quietly with Kingsley, giving Draco time to disappear into the mansion if he wanted. She glanced down the hall and saw him standing at the end, waiting, frowning severely at the floor. With a sigh, Hermione crossed the threshold of the last place on earth she ever thought she'd go.

The walk down the front hall was haunting. Burn marks were visible on the walls and on the carpet; pictures hung askew; vases and various other things on display were broken, the pieces left scattered on the cold marble.

When she approached Draco, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, telling her in no uncertain terms that he didn't want to be touched. Hermione had to remind herself that he was going through something she couldn't possibly understand. She stopped a few feet away from him.

Draco nodded, indicating the hall that led to the south wing. "That way are all the extraneous rooms. Ballroom, parlor, music room, art galleries, even the Malfoy family museum, so to speak." He looked down the opposite hall. "Rooms, mostly. Mine is – _was_ – on the second floor, just at the top of the stairs. Theirs…" he stopped, and Hermione saw him swallow several times before continuing. "Theirs was at the very end, to the right."

He looked at her – no, not quite. He looked just over the top of her head. "What would you like to see first?"

She wanted to leave. She'd never seen him like this and it scared her. It was as though he were fighting tears, anger, frustration, disappointment and his own betrayal all at once.

"I – I want you to pick," she said nervously.

"My room, then," he said with a single nod and he started for the Grand Staircase. Aurors would come behind them and they'd agreed not to touch anything until Draco gave them leave.

Hermione followed in silence, fighting tears of her own. She wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms and hold him and tell him everything would be okay. But there was no comfort for him, none he could take.

With a shaking hand, Draco pushed open the door to his room – to his former life – and stepped in. Hermione was not surprised to find the room done in green and silver. There were three large, ornate bookshelves on one wall, full of books of all sizes and shapes; a fireplace on a second wall; an enormous bed on the third and on the fourth, a dresser stood next to a floor-to-ceiling window covered in rich, velvet drapes. Draco quickly crossed the room and pulled open the drapes.

Dust flew into his face and he sneezed. "Doxies," he muttered. Slowly he turned around to face the room in the broad daylight. His eyes met Hermione's briefly before he crossed to the bookshelves and started making a stack of the books.

Hermione went to stand beside him, looking at the large collection. _How to Always Get What You Want, An Encyclopedia of Dark Magic, The Dark Art of Seduction, 1000 Alternative Potions. _These were just a few of the titles that jumped out at her. She gasped and backed away.

Draco paused and looked at her curiously. He was on his third stack of books, moving quickly through the shelves. "What?" he asked blandly.

"They're all…Dark," she said, turning to him.

The look he was giving her chilled her blood and sent shivers – the bad kind – down her spine. He looked at the book he was holding a read aloud. "Creatures of the Night, Volume III, S through Z." He sighed wearily, as though exhausted. "Hermione, what did you expect to find? Books on kittens?" He wasn't quite sneering, but it was the closest she'd heard from him since he'd joined the Order.

Hermione really didn't want to cry. She momentarily forgot who Draco was now and feared he'd make fun of her for it. Call her weak. For the first time, she was also slightly afraid of him; it was as though he'd become a different person when he'd set foot on his family's property.

Instead of comforting her like she'd hoped, Draco merely stared at her. "Well?" he demanded.

"I – you're keeping them," she managed.

Draco blinked and looked at the stacks of books he'd so far created and then back at her. "This…is who I am."

Tears pricked her eyes then and then, finally, she saw _his _eyes soften. He quickly shut them and rubbed his head.

"I…told you this would be hard," he said.

She knew that; she'd simply never expected it to be so hard for _her_. She hadn't anticipated just how strong an effect it would have on him; she'd thought _she _was strong enough for him.

Hermione only nodded and looked back at the books. More than ever, she wanted to hold him close, now to comfort herself as well as him, but she wouldn't. She felt so small then, staring at _The Dark Art of Seduction_ and screaming at herself that he was different now, that he wasn't like _that_ anymore.

"It's about murder," he said quietly. She jumped, unaware that he'd moved to stand right behind her. "My father gave me books like this all the time." Draco pulled it down and flipped through a few pages. "He wanted to brand my conscience early and irrevocably." He shut the book and looked at her, then tossed it on the first stack and returned to his task.

Hermione was at a complete loss.

"The nightstand by my bed," Draco said after a few minutes without looking at her. "It's locked. The password is _libertas_. That's what I read."

Hermione hesitated and then went to his bed. With a glance over her shoulder, she spoke the password and opened the drawer. Inside were two very worn and tattered books – _A Christmas Carol_ by Charles Dickens and _Huckleberry Finn_ by Mark Twain.

Gingerly she picked up _Huckleberry Finn_ and glanced through it. There were markings all though it in his scratchy hand, obviously much-read. Her heart leapt and she turned around to find he'd completely emptied the shelves.

He was watching her.

She reddened and turned away to replace the book.

"No, keep it out. The other too."

Hermione complied, setting the books on his bed.

Draco started a fire in his fireplace and magically stoked it until it was roaring and she could feel the heat from across the room. "Want to help?" he asked her.

"Help with what?"

He picked up _The Art of Seduction_ and tossed it into the flames. He smiled as the smell of burning paper filled the room. Hermione found his expression to be strange in the oppressive Manor. The brooding, mysterious, dark side she'd seen moments earlier fit with the surroundings. The smile didn't.

"Here," he said, holding out to her a dark red book. "I think you should toss this one."

Hermione went to him and accepted the book and looked at the title. _Mudbloods and Their Uses_. She almost dropped it; she almost opened it. In the end she threw it as hard as she could into the fire.

He pointed to one stack of books. "Those are flammable." To another: "Those are not." To the last: "Those will fight back if we try to destroy them. We'll leave those for the Ministry."

Hermione nodded.

Draco grinned. "Can you handle burning books, Granger?"

"Well, this _is_ a very special circumstance. Yes, I rather think I can," she said firmly.

It took them an hour to finish and they made a game out of guessing what color the flames would be with each book.

For Draco, it was letting go of the part of himself he'd always loathed, always been ashamed of. Draco took two books, a picture of his mother and his broom from the house. Three months later, when the Ministry declared the house officially "clean", he and Hermione watched it burn to the ground.

**ooo**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! The book, "The Dark Art of Seduction," was borrowed with permission of the author from "Forgotten" by Evy Black. EXCELLENT story, not yet complete. You may find it mugglenet fanfiction archives.


	6. Chapter 6

**11 Reasons General Theme**: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger  
**Title**: The One Who Knows  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**Word Count**: 2308  
**Prompt**: Table 2 (Emotions)—_Anger_  
**Notes**: Many thanks to my betas, Z and eilonwy!

…

_I will watch you struggle long, Before the answers come  
But I won't make it harder. I'll be there to cheer you on  
I'll shine the light that guides you down The road you're walking on._

**ooo**

The day before Lucius Malfoy was to receive the Dementor's Kiss, Draco went to visit him in prison. Hermione had been trying to convince him to go for weeks, ever since the date had been set at the conclusion of his long trial . She knew seeing Lucius would be hard for Draco, and likely painful, but she felt strongly that he needed to go. There were things he needed to say to his father, questions he needed to ask, and if he missed the chance to say and ask them, he would come to regret it. Hermione knew Draco—he didn't need any more regret hanging over him.

She offered to go with him, but he never committed to a day. He brushed her off and changed the subject as quickly as possible. When he finally went, she only found out because he sent her an owl that afternoon that said: _It's done._

Hermione dropped everything and Apparated to his flat. The entire place was very dark and she nearly tripped over something in the middle of the floor. She lit her wand to see what it was and found a wad of robes, haphazardly discarded on the floor.

Draco kept his flat impossibly clean and orderly and never left anything out of place. Her concern grew as she made her way toward his bedroom. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she noticed the entire flat looked as though it had been ransacked. There were clothes everywhere, things broken; it was an enormous mess. For an instant, she panicked, thinking _someone _had been here, that he was hurt—or worse.

Hermione had to stop in the hallway to collect herself. She shut her eyes and forced her breathing to slow, and she tried to tell herself everything was fine, everything was fine, everything was _fine_. She told herself _he _had made the mess; his wards were too good to be broken in a single day.

When she reached the bedroom door, she listened but heard nothing.

"Draco," she called, knocking softly. Nothing. "Draco," she called again, louder this time. Still nothing. When she called his name the third time, she thought she heard movement, but after waiting a few moments, there was no more sound. She tried the handle but he had locked the door.

"Draco, please, answer me," she said, nearly hysterical. "Just…_say _something, please. I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

The door opened slowly and she entered his room. It looked like the rest of the flat – dark and disheveled. Through the gloom, she could just make out a lump in the middle of his bed and she knew had to be Draco. She couldn't see any part of him, as he was entirely covered by bed clothes.

"Draco," she said, approaching the bed.

"What?" came a muffled, annoyed voice.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He didn't answer right away. "What kind of question is that?"

He was in a very bad mood, that much was obvious. Hermione stopped at the edge of the bed, close to the head. "You're right, I'm sorry. What happened?" she asked.

Another long pause before he answered. "I'm trying not to curse because you asked me to curse less."

Hermione waited for him to continue; after a while she realized he wasn't going to. She sighed. "Draco, look at me."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

She felt like slapping him. "Draco, I get that you're angry, upset, whatever, but that's no excuse to be rude."

"Again. Trying not to curse. And I don't really care if I'm being rude."

"Malfoy – "

"No. I get to do this," he said, still buried somewhere in the sheets. "I'm going to lie here and be hard and rude all I want. You have _no _idea what I'm going through – what I went through. I don't _want _you to know. I want to be left alone. I'm not going to talk about it, I'm not going to be accommodating. I'm going to be the selfish git I was born to be for as long as I want. And you don't get to turn it around and make me the bad guy." He paused. "Actually, sod it. I _am _the bad guy. So go whine and complain about it all you want. But leave me alone. Understand?"

Hermione was completely stunned. He'd never spoken to her like that before, never even raised his voice. When they fought, he was the quiet one and she was the loud one. Quick anger filled her, but she also knew that something must be terribly wrong for him to act this way.

But it still didn't give him the right to be angry with _her—_sheonly wanted to help—but she supposed, after all, he was due some self-pity.

Understanding this did not improve her mood, however. "Fine," she snapped. "You just lie there and wallow. I'll be in your spare room if you need anything." She crossed her arms and glared at the lump, silently daring him to challenge her.

"Okay," he finally said, sounding defeated.

She stormed from the room and though she wanted to slam the door, she didn't.

**ooo**

Draco didn't emerge the entire rest of the day or the next, the day Lucius received his punishment. Hermione wasn't terribly surprised. She slept in the room down the hall from his and spent her time reading. When an entire two days had passed, however, she became concerned. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink since the day he had gone to see his father.

Ron came over to bring Hermione a few potion ingredients she'd written him for and he stayed for an hour, talking with her about Draco. Ron was concerned, as was Hermione, but not nearly as much.

"He's just dealing with it differently than you would," he said. "Let him be."

He left when the potion was ready and she poured some of the thick, nourishing liquid into a glass.

Hermione didn't bother knocking this time before entering his room and was relieved he hadn't reset the lock. It was pitch black, despite being the middle of the day and Hermione carefully made her way to the bed. It looked as though he hadn't even _moved _in the last forty-eight hours.

"Draco?" Hermione said softly when she'd reached the head of the bed. "Draco, wake up, love. I need you to give you something."

The bedcovers moved and then stilled.

"Draco," she called, louder.

"Mmm…" he groaned.

"Draco!" she snapped.

"What?" he said, sounding very annoyed.

"I need you to drink something."

"Why?"

"Because you haven't eaten anything in two days. Or had anything to drink. I'm not going to let you waste away just because you're being a righteous prat."

"What is it?"

"It's a temporary meal replacement potion. It'll meet your needs for two days."

He paused. "Fine. Leave it."

She set the glass on the bedside table roughly and despite knowing that he wasn't being ornery because he was upset with her, huffed angrily to the door.

"Hermione?" he called just as she reached it.

That one word, her name, and the way he said it—as though he were a small child lost in a room full of people—melted all her anger and annoyance. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

**ooo**

Hermione gave Draco the potion on days four and six. On day four, she'd tried to talk to him but had been promptly told to shove off. She left the potion for him by the bed both times, never once seeing any part of him, never seeing any indication he'd moved at all.

The morning of the seventh day, she was starting to get _really _concerned. Draco had shown no signs of improvement and it had been an entire week. She considered asking someone to come see him, but that would have been futile – if Draco wouldn't talk to her, she knew he wouldn't talk to a stranger.

Ron had stopped by every day to check on her and to get her things she needed. She didn't want to leave even to get something to eat, in case he wanted her.

She'd been sitting at the table with the intention of reading the Daily Prophet, but couldn't concentrate. Her mind was spinning with worry and a growing sense of helplessness. She was so intensely caught up in her thoughts that she didn't hear the bedroom door open or hear his light footfalls as he walked down the hall.

"Morning," he said, and she jumped.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of him. He'd lost a little weight, but he was smiling at her and he'd obviously just come fresh and clean-shaven from the shower. She jumped up and threw her arms around him, letting a few tears of relief run down her face.

"Draco!" she whispered, holding the back of his head with her hand. He held her tightly and gave no indication he would ever stop. Eventually though, Hermione's need to breathe became greater than her need to remain in his arms and she pulled away from him just enough to look him in the eyes.

He was still grinning. "Hi."

A hundred questions fought for prominence as she smiled back at him. "What… how… are you… oh, I'm so glad to see you!"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Me too."

"Would you – I mean, can we… talk?"

Draco's smile faded slightly, but he nodded and released her. He sat at the table while Hermione put a pot of hot water on the stove. He took a deep breath and started. "I…went to see him. You were right; I never would have been able to live with myself if I hadn't. It…was awful. There are no other words for it."

Hermione squeezed his hand.

"I said all those things I told you I wanted to say and he sat there, listening, not saying a word. When I finished, I waited for him to…I don't know…explode. He did nothing. He just looked at me, his eyes cold, and said…" His voice caught and he looked away from her. "He said he had no son."

Hermione's heart broke for him.

"And then he just…left." He was crying, she saw, though he tried to hide it. Not great, wracking sobs, just a few silent tears that plopped onto the table in little pools. He removed his hand from hers to wipe his eyes.

When he looked up at her again, his eyes were clear and he smiled. "But I did what I went to do."

She shook her head, feeling helpless. "I don't know what to say," she whispered.

Draco gave her a small smile and shrugged. "I told him about you, you know," Draco continued. "I said I loved you. That was the only moment I got a reaction from him. The veins on his neck stood out and he clenched his jaw. I could tell he really wanted to say something about it." He paused and shut his eyes tight. "I kind of wish he had."

"Draco…" she started.

"I did something rash after I left Azkaban," he said hurriedly.

"What?"

Without a word, Draco set his left arm on the table, palm side up. Hermione gasped. Just above his wrist and beside a very ugly scar was a small tattoo of the Dark Mark. It wasn't nearly as large as the actual Mark had been during Voldemort's reign, but it was nevertheless quite obviously the Mark.

"I know I'll never forget everything that happened. Those… images and experiences, the pain, the _reason_ behind all of it… I need this to remind me. What my father became…I don't want that to be me."

"That could _never _be you," Hermione said firmly.

He smiled. "Thank you for saying that. I certainly hope not, but… I know it's there, in me. Lurking." He paused and ran a hand through his hair, then looked at her intently. "There's one thing I realized from this whole thing though."

"What?"

"I want you to marry me."

Her eyes widened with delight. "Really?"

"Yes," he said earnestly. "Say you will."

"You're asking me right now?" she said, surprised.

"Yes. Right now."

"Yes!" she exclaimed with an enormous smile. "I'll marry you, of _course_ I will."

His face relaxed and he smiled at her again, taking her hand. "Good. I don't have a ring for you. I hadn't really planned this…"

"I don't need a ring, Draco."

He nodded. "Soon. As soon as possible."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"I love _you_." Hermione felt…unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Elated, overjoyed, ecstatic. Very quickly though, she realized Draco wasn't finished. "What is it?"

"I cannot believe I spent a week in bed. And I _am_ sorry I was so awful to you."

"Already forgiven," she said. Then, "If I may ask, why did you spend a week cut off? I was very worried about you."

He shrugged. "I had to mourn my father. After everything that had happened… I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. I knew you would be spitting angry if I did, so I did the next best thing. Crawled into bed and barely moved."

She laughed. "And how are you feeling now, love? About everything."

Draco considered the question. "I…I feel better. I really do. I said what I needed to say—I reckon I got the reaction I should have anticipated…. I spent the whole week thinking about him and all the ways he poisoned me as a child." He looked at her. "I do not think I will miss him."

Hermione leaned over and lightly kissed him. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

He smiled at her. "And we are getting married."

She grinned. "I can't wait."

**ooo**

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! More to come soon! We're now over halfway finished with these little stories—only five more to go.


	7. Chapter 7

**11 Reasons General Theme**: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger  
**Title**: The One Who Knows  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**Word Count**: 1491  
**Prompt**: Table 3 (Favorites)—_Place: Hers_  
**Notes**: Many thanks to my wonderful beta, eilonwy!

…

_Before the mountains call to you  
Before you leave this home_

**ooo**

"I cannot believe you do this for fun. I can't believe _anyone_ does this for fun."

Hermione rolled her eyes and giggled. "Buck up, Malfoy. We're only just getting started."

"How much further?" he asked.

"Eight miles."

"That sounds like a long way."

She shrugged. "Two hours or so."

"What?!" He stopped walking and set his backpack on the ground beside him.

Hermione turned around, smiling, an eyebrow cocked. "Honestly. The wizarding lifestyle promotes laziness. You'll live, Draco. I promise."

"Speaking of the wizarding lifestyle," said Draco, pulling his water bottle from the pack and taking a long drink. "Why don't we just Apparate to where we're headed? Save all this time and energy."

"Draco," Hermione said patiently. "It's not always about the destination, you know. Sometimes it's about the journey."

"The journey," he repeated, as though tasting something quite sour. "This…walking for two hours. _Carrying_ all this stuff. That's what it's about?"

"Yes. We'd miss all of this," she said, indicated the forest around them. "All the trees and wildlife and natural beauty around us. I assure you, the end of this trip is fantastic as well, but it'll be all the more wonderful after we've really _earned _it. Do you honestly want to miss all of this?"

He chuckled. "Would you say I'm a bad person if I said yes?"

"No, but trust me when I tell you you'd be missing out. I'm walking; you may Apparate." She turned around and resumed walking.

Draco sighed. Of course he wasn't leaving her. After watching her back get smaller, he gave one final, silent protest and slung the pack onto his back and hurried to catch up with her.

After twenty minutes in silence, Draco said. "So you did this with your parents, right?"

"Yes, many times. This particular trail at that."

"I saw a deer back there."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him. "You did? Why didn't you tell me?"

Draco's eyes widened. "I didn't know I was supposed to!"

"Lucky!" she said, glancing around the forest as though she might be able to spy another one. "Next time you see something, tell me, okay?"

He grinned at her. "Maybe you should slow down and enjoy the _journey_."

"Very funny," she said and started walking again.

Draco fell in step beside her and took her hand in his. No matter how many times they'd held hands, he still marveled at how small her hand was compared to his, how well they fit together. And more recently, he felt pride well inside him at the feel of the thin, gold band on her finger. He smiled and very nearly started whistling.

They talked about what they saw, Hermione acting as a kind of tour guide. Soon they heard the sound of water.

"Ooh," Hermione exclaimed, her eyes bright with excitement. "That means we're getting close to the waterfall!"

"Hey, no fair! You know what's coming."

"I told you, I've been on this trail before. Though I must admit, I was never a huge fan of hiking and camping when my parents made me go."

"Oh?" he asked her.

"I know, hard to believe, right?" she replied sarcastically.

"So you've decided to enjoy it all of a sudden? Or is this for _my _benefit? Do share with me a little of your wild Muggle ways."

She jabbed him with her elbow, then looked at him sideways. "I enjoy it _now_, thank you very much. It's incredibly peaceful being surrounded by only nature. And…any excuse to get you into a pair of jeans is completely worth it."

He stopped and turned to her, one eyebrow cocked, a smile slowly forming on his face. "Why, you scheming little minx."

Hermione giggled and stepped closer to him. "You know, Draco. We're…all alone out here. No one around for miles…" she trailed off, letting him make all the right connections in his mind.

His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in consideration. "Where?" he asked, glancing around. All he could see were trees, trees, and more trees.

"We're magical, don't forget. We can Transfigure just about anything. And there's always the river… or the waterfall."

Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. "Waterfall?" he asked, his voice low and his eyes shining.

"It's pretty shallow," Hermione replied with a smirk. "I've been swimming there before."

He growled and kissed her. "I think I'm starting to appreciate nature."

"I thought you might," she said, pulling out of his hold. "Come on, it's a little walk yet."

Draco decided he _really _liked nature after visiting the waterfall. He didn't even think twice about the fact that their stop extended the trip by an hour.

Hand in hand they continued until Hermione stopped.

Draco looked at her skeptically. "_This _is our destination? A _cave_?"

She grinned. "Yes. Trust me, will you?" She let go of his hand and entered the cave.

"Hermione," Draco called. "Wait! What if there are animals in there? And it's awfully dark."

"Come _on_, you pansy. I've been in here before. And we both have our wands." On cue, he could see a faint light coming from inside. Reluctantly he followed. The path was narrow, crooked and winding. He'd lit his want too and quickly regretted it. The light illuminated the various cave-dwelling insects and the plant-life growing on some parts of the cave walls. They walked for ten minutes, Draco's anxiety increasing with every step.

"Hermione," he said finally. She stopped. "Uh, I trust you and all, but where are we going?"

She turned around and quirked one side of her mouth. "We're here." Then she took a few more steps and disappeared from his sight. Quickly he followed and stepped out of the tunnel into an enormous cavern.

The floor sloped gradually down to a large pool of water. Stalactites and stalagmites jutted from the ceiling and floor everywhere he looked, and the only sound was a steady dripping of water somewhere in the dark.

"Wow," he said, waving his wand around to see as much as he could. The roof and far wall of the cavern were too far to be touched by his light. He turned to Hermione, who was watching him.

"Come on, let's eat lunch. I'm starving," she said.

Hermione had packed a romantic meal of bread, cheese, fruit, and even a little wine. She spread a blanket on the floor and Transfigured a stick she'd brought from the forest into a torch and suspended it above them.

"See?" Hermione said as they ate. "Wasn't the walk worth it?"

He looked at her. "I became pleased with the walk at the waterfall. But yes, it was."

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Happy anniversary."

He grinned. "I can't believe it's been three years. I love you more today than ever."

"Me too." She paused. "Draco?"

"Yes?"

"How many kids do you want?"

He frowned. "Kids? Where is this coming from?"

She shrugged. "I'm curious is all. We both _want _children, but I'm an only child and so are you. . We have no experience with a larger family, and it hit me the other day. Do you want just one, or more?"

Draco considered the question as he finished his cheese. "I've always wished I had a brother or sister."

"Me too."

He chuckled. "Though I imagine I would have got into a _lot _more trouble if I'd had a brother." The smile slowly faded. "Probably a lot _less _if I'd had a sister."

"What makes you say that?"

He shrugged. "I suppose the way I feel about you. I want to protect you, keep you from all the evils of the world. I imagine I'd feel the same about my sister. Maybe…maybe I wouldn't have been so drawn in by my father."

Hermione gave him a reassuring look. "It's all right in the end, love."

"I know. I know." He shook his head. "Sorry to bring him up today."

They were quiet for a few minutes. Then Hermione said, "Then we are in agreement? More than one kid?"

"You know," he replied thoughtfully. "If we had _seven_, that would make an entire Quidditch team."

Hermione's eyes widened and then she rolled them. "I'm _not _having children to produce a Quidditch team."

"I know, love. It was a joke."

"Very funny."

Draco leaned over the blanket and kissed her softly, purposefully. "As many as we want." He settled back in his spot and finished his glass. "How many do you want?"

"Two, or three. Or four."

"Very specific," he said with a chuckle.

She smiled and then very quietly said. "When, uh, do you want to start?"

He considered her for a moment, taking in the nervous, expectant, hopeful look in her eyes that extended to her cheeks, causing them to flush. Then he glanced around him at the dark, secluded yet damp and stuffy cave and, thinking back to the waterfall, smirked.

"How about on the walk back?"

**ooo**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Another one up soon:)


	8. Chapter 8

**11 Reasons General Theme**: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger  
**Title**: The One Who Knows  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**Word Count**: 1003  
**Prompt**: Table 5 (Acts and Behaviors)—_Staring_  
**Notes**: Many thanks to my wonderful beta, eilonwy!

…

_Gonna teach your heart to trust  
As I will teach my own _

**ooo**

Air.

She needed _air_, and now.

Hermione moved as nonchalantly from the room as she could and made her way in a near-run to the back of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. She pushed open the back door and stepped into the cool, crisp autumn air.

Breathe.

A few deep, cleansing breaths.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten, then slowly, deliberately, walked to the steps that led down from the small porch. She sat on the second one of three and reached into her pocket for a cigarette and her lighter. She'd bought it on a whim – it had a snake on it.

Hermione lit the end of the smoke and took a long drag. She felt her nerves calm immediately.

"That's disgusting," came a voice she'd grown to associate with laughter.

"Sod off," she replied, not looking up.

He sat down beside her instead. Hermione rolled her eyes but said nothing, enjoying the warmth of his closeness and the tingling in her insides because she was fairly certain that the sleeve of his t-shirt was touching her arm.

He didn't speak for a moment and Hermione took a few more pulls, exhaling clouds of thin, dark smoke.

"Since when do you smoke?" he finally said.

Hermione sighed and readjusted herself on the step. The movement caused their arms to brush and she felt a rush of fire from her belly. "Since the day you showed up here, Malfoy." _Six months._ "With your promises and your words and all the energy you brought with you."

She could feel him staring hard to her, maybe trying to drill a hole through her skull and peer at what was going on beneath, but she ignored him and continued smoking.

At first, she'd smoked because of the stress of having Draco Malfoy in the house, in their meetings, in the bathroom when she needed it. Though her conscious mind couldn't completely accept it for what it was, she smoked increasingly for the fear that one day, he _wouldn't_ be there anymore.

"Why do you let him talk to you like that?" he finally asked, a quick anger in his voice.

She looked at him then, sideways, but said nothing. Took another drag and turned away from him to exhale.

"I mean, he acts as though you have nothing worthwhile to say, nothing to contribute. Everyone knows that's not true. We wouldn't even _be _this far if it weren't for you. Just because he had _one _victory, _one _really successful mission, he thinks he can treat you like he's better than you, like he knows more about fighting, and war and magic than you. It's rubbish.

"And you just _let _him, which I do _not _understand. If I said _half _of what he says, you'd slug me. Or anyone else, for that matter. You are one of the most valuable members of the Order, and he treats you like he's better than you." He picked up a rock and threw it as hard as he could.

"Ironic, don't you think?" she asked. "You've always thought you were better than I was." She'd caught him off guard and she smiled. "And you'd better be careful unless you really want to get slugged. That's my boyfriend you're talking about."

Their eyes met with a look that said they both knew that wouldn't be true for much longer.

"Why, Granger? Why do you put up with him?"

She shrugged. "Right now…it's not worth it. I have other things to focus on."

"Bollocks, Hermione." Draco pulled a few blades of grass out of the ground and started ripping them. "You deserve better."

"What do you know about it, Malfoy?" she asked calmly. She knew it was true, everything he'd said. She just didn't _care _enough to fight with Ron. There wasno point. It only wasted energy that could be spent for the War. For _Harry_.

The War had pulled everything from inside her until she felt there was nothing left. That was why she treasured the moments when Draco was near her – she _felt _his presence, and she felt what it did to her. Tingles, spurts, shoots, sparks of something bigger than herself. Bigger than the War, bigger than anything. It might fill the universe.

Draco very deliberately split a large blade right down the middle and then said, "I know if it were me, I would never, ever, treat you like that. I'd never try to make you feel stupid or less than you are."

Hermione was speechless for a moment and a wave of tingles washed through her. She shivered.

"You cold?" Draco asked, looking at her.

"No," she lied, taking another long drag. She looked at the cigarette in her hand. "I want to quit."

"So quit."

She looked at him, a serious expression on her face. "Are you here, Malfoy? I mean, _really_ here. For the long-haul, through battles and fights and blood and death? Or are you playing around? Testing to see where you can come out on top? Taking the easy way out?"

"Easy?" he said, incredulous. "You think this is _easy_ for me? Merlin, Granger! Easy is lying down and giving up. Easy is running to my father when things get bumpy. Easy is doing what the Dark Lord says and blaming _him_ for my failure of conscience.

"It hasn't been _easy_ to turn against everything I've ever believed, to risk, among other things, being killed by the people I'd once called my family. No, I have not chosen what's _easy _for me."

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Are you _here_?"

"Yes." He held up his left arm and pointed to a large scar, left unhealed over a patch of marred skin. Where a Dark Mark had once been visible. "What more do you want?"

"Your word."

"I'm _here,_ Granger. For all the right reasons, until that sick monster breathes his last."

Hermione nodded and took a third long drag and then put out the cigarette. "Okay, then. I quit."

ooo

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Only three more to go – wow!


	9. Chapter 9

**11 Reasons General Theme**: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger  
**Title**: The One Who Knows  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**Word Count**: 2261  
**Prompt**: Table 4 (Sins and Virtues)—_Faith_  
**Notes**: Many thanks to my wonderful beta, eilonwy!

…

_But sometimes I will ask the moon  
__Where it shined upon you last_

**ooo**

Hermione was sick. She'd thrown up four times since she got home.

Gemma and Nathan were worried but she assured them she'd be fine. She lied to her children, which only made her feel worse.

When Draco arrived home from work, she was waiting for him in the living room in the center of the sofa, her hands folded sternly in her lap. She didn't look up when he entered the room.

"Hello, my sweet," he said in his sultry bedroom voice.

She shuddered and felt nearly sick again, but she allowed him to kiss her cheek.

"How was your day?" he asked, glancing around the room and pulling at his tie. "Where are the kids?"

"Ginny's," she replied, still avoiding him.

He looked at her and quirked an eyebrow, grinning. "Oh? What do you have planned for us tonight, hmm? Rigorous…activity?" He leaned down to capture her lips, but Hermione turned her head. He straightened and frowned. "What is it? Is everything okay?"

Hermione shut her eyes, wishing with all her might things could be different, that she could take back her impulsive decision to go to Diagon Alley that afternoon for lunch and a stop at the Apothecary. When she opened them, Draco was staring at her, concern written all over his face.

"I—" she started, but something in her gut tried to expel itself and she clamped her mouth shut and swallowed hard.

Draco sat down on the coffee table. "Hermione, are you okay?"

She shook her head and fresh tears filled her eyes.

"What? You're frightening me. Please, talk to me."

"I saw you today," she blurted before she could think. It was better that way.

He blinked and his frown deepened. "You did? When?"

"At lunch."

"My lunch? Or yours?"

"Yours. Mine. I mean, I was at lunch, and saw you at lunch."

He relaxed somewhat. "Oh. Why didn't you talk to me?"

Now she blinked. "_Talk _to you? I _saw _you, Draco. With—with that woman. Why on earth would I want to interrupt you?" She was half-yelling, half-whispering, terrified at what was coming out of her mouth.

"You _saw _me? What, eating?"

Hermione clenched her jaw. "No. I mean, yes, but I saw much more than that." She could tell he knew what she was getting at and he was getting angry too.

"What is _that _supposed to mean, exactly?" he asked, remarkably calm for how upset she knew he was, standing to pace in front of the fireplace.

Tears were streaming down her face. "I _saw _you, with _her_. What more do I need to say? I saw the way she looked at you, the way she _touched _you. I saw the way _you _acted toward her. I stood there for nearly ten minutes watching, because at first I couldn't believe my eyes. I knew there was no _way _I could possibly be seeing what I thought I was seeing, but for _ten bloody minutes_ I watched and saw nothing to prove my eyes false."

"You think I'm cheating on you," he said flatly.

"I—I don't know what to think. I think…maybe. I—"

"Spare me," he said coldly, gathering his work robes. "When you have adequately formed in your mind just what you're accusing me of, we'll talk."

She looked up at him, too hurt to speak. Their eyes met and the next moment, he strode from the room and out the front door of their house, slamming it so hard the windows rattled.

**ooo**

Hermione cried for two more hours while she tried to gather a bag of things to take to Ginny's. Everything she looked at reminded her of Draco, and her mind was so muddled she couldn't keep straight what she needed to pack. Finally she gave up, figuring Ginny would have whatever she needed.

Fortunately, the kids were asleep when Hermione knocked on Ginny's door. Her friend answered and wordlessly pulled her in and held her as she cried even more.

"Shh, there now, Hermione," Ginny repeated, guiding her into the closest room available. "Let it out, let it out."

Finally, when Hermione thought she'd be sick again from crying so hard, she forced herself to calm down. She stopped crying and Ginny handed her a box of tissues.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked quietly.

Hermione shook her head. "M-maybe t-tomorrow."

"Okay. Let's get you in bed. Want me to stay with you?"

"N-no, th-thanks. How are my kids?"

"Just fine. They were perfectly behaved and quite excited about the impromptu sleepover."

Tears rushed into her eyes again and she wiped them away. "I'm not sure I'll ever stop crying."

"I have to know…did…did he…"

"He said nothing, actually. Not yes, not no."

Ginny looked at her friend sadly. "Okay. You can stay here as long as you need to."

Hermione nodded and Ginny hugged her, releasing a fresh wave of pain and tears. "Thanks, Ginny," Hermione whispered.

**ooo**

Three days later, at quarter to eight, Draco knocked on Ginny's door. He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, and when he'd caught a glimpse of his reflection, he looked terrible.

Ginny answered and crossed her arms in the doorway, not opening the door, not stepping outside. "Yes?" she asked, as though she had no idea why he was there.

"Is my wife here?" he asked raggedly, not quite able to meet Ginny's eyes.

"Yes."

"May I see her?"

"Why should I let you?" Ginny asked, and he could tell she was angry. "She's been here three days, Malfoy. Three _days_! You just _now _decided to come see her?"

He clenched his jaw. "No, _Weasley_," he said, angrily using her maiden name. "I came by three days ago, the night she…" He swallowed hard. "Your _delightful_ lesser half told me she _wasn't _here. I've been looking elsewhere for her since."

Ginny didn't reply right away. She looked him up and down. "You look like death, Malfoy."

He glared at her. "Like I care. MayI seemy wife?"

"Did you cheat on her?"

"NO."

"Who was that woman, then?"

"I don't have to explain anything to you," he spat.

"Well, there's where you're wrong. You want to see her, you have to get through me. So start talking."

He deflated, letting his shoulders slump, and ran a hand through his messy hair. "A client."

"A client? What does that mean?"

"For my job, Ginny. I work, remember? Part of my job is to keep clients happy."

"Oh, I bet it is," she replied saucily.

The fire erupted inside him again. "Shut it," he said through gritted teeth. "You don't know anything about what you're insinuating. I _can _get past you, you know."

"Not a chance in all the circles of hell, Malfoy. Your wife is excellent with wards; did you know that? _I _can _let _you in. If I choose."

"My work," he said, staring past Ginny at a spot on the wall. "Requires me to meet with clients, and exchange information. It is customary to meet over lunch, or coffee, or some other amicable setting rather than in a boardroom or stuffy office. That woman was a client of the firm's."

"Fine. But that's not why we're here, having this conversation, is it?"

"No. What do you want, Zabini? Merlin, at least tell her I'm here."

"Not yet. Hermione said your behavior was beyond the typical business meeting. Explain."

"_My _behavior was completely professional. If _she _was behaving in any other way, I assure you, I didn't pay any attention to it."

"Was she then? Behaving inappropriately?"

His eyes darted to the ceiling as he took a deep breath. "It might, from the outside, look that way."

"_Was_ she behaving in an interested way toward you, outside of what you were meeting to discuss?" Ginny demanded.

"Yes. But that doesn't mean—"

"Did you encourage her?"

"I'm tired of this. Let me talk to Hermione. And yes, I know she's good with wards, but I'm pretty sure I could get past them. Let me in—_now!_ " he said, furious.

"Do you promise never again to put yourself in a situation that someone could misinterpret?"

He huffed. "If you're asking me if I'll refrain from meeting clients, then no, I can't promise that. The way _other _people act is beyond my control. I was doing my job."

Ginny opened her mouth to speak then quickly shut it and looked to her left. When she looked back at Draco, she smirked and shut the door.

His eyes narrowed and he raised his hand to pound on the door when it opened again, this time by Hermione. His mouth opened in surprise and he stared at her, feeling a myriad emotions roiling in his gut. First and foremost he thought she looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her and he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never leave her side again.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi." He lowered his arm and felt ridiculously awkward.

"I…um…was listening."

Draco let out his breath, both relieved and more anxious than he had been. "Okay."

Hermione looked behind her and then stepped onto the front porch, closing the door behind her. She crossed her arms, not in annoyance, but in a self-defensive pose.

"What more do you need me to say?" he asked.

She looked at him, brow furrowed, her gaze darting from one eye to the other. "You lether _touch_ you."

He shut his eyes tight. "Yeah, I know."

"Why?"

He took a deep breath and looked at her, straight in the eyes. "It's a habit, you could say. I could tell she was…interested, and I…used that."

"You flirted with her."

He grimaced; she was always bluntly honest. "Yes."

He saw tears well in the corners of her eyes and it was only then he noticed how red and puffy her eyes were, as though she'd been crying for days. She probably had. Without thinking, he reached for her, but she pulled away.

"Hermione…I'm sorry. It—it doesn't mean _anything_."

"Do you do it often?"

"Not often, but this wasn't the first time."

"You _flirt _with women who are probably thinking about how much they want to get you into bed—why?"

He cringed. "Business. It's harmless, Hermione, I promise."

"Well, it hurt me," she said sadly.

His mind spun and stopped, focusing on that word. He shifted his weight. "It hurt _me_, you know. That you would _ever _think I'd cheat on you. I—_never_, Hermione. I am so completely in love with you. How could I _ever _betray you? Our children? _You_? I—Merlin, Hermione. I love you more today than I ever have and that's not going to change. _Ever_.

"I know what I did was wrong, and I'm not trying to excuse my actions, but it was strictly for work. And…you know me. I…flirt easily. It means _nothing_. How could you even for a second think I could do that?"

The tears were still locked in place. Hermione looked at him sadly. "Sometimes—I find it so impossible to believe that _I _make you happy."

A torrent of pain gripped his heart and he went to her and wrapped her in his arms. He wanted to envelop her, to surround her, to saturate her with his love. She cried into his arms and shakily wrapped hers around him. He squeezed her tightly, probably too tightly, but he wasn't going to let her go until she believed him. All the way.

"Listen to me, Hermione Malfoy," he said thickly. She nodded against his chest. "You _are _what happiness is to me. I can't be happy _without_ you. I need you. You're the mother of my children, you're the piece of me that's always been missing. You have to believe me, you have to. You _have_ to. I'll quit working, quit everything until I can convince you, show you every single moment that you're the most wonderful thing in my life. You _make _my life."

She was shaking her head so he pulled back and looked down at her. "What?"

"I believe you."

"You _have _to, Hermione. Look at me," he said, tilting her chin up. "I can't even breathe until I know you believe me."

"I do, Draco. I promise."

It wasn't enough, it didn't _feel_ like enough. They'd been married eleven years and she still carried doubt in her heart, something he hadn't thought possible. He searched her face, finding truth, but scared to grasp onto it.

"Your turn," she said, smiling slightly.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"To believe me. I believe you; it's your turn."

He shut his eyes and leaned his head down to rest on hers. He took a very deep breath. "I do." It felt like he was promising his vows all over again, and maybe in a way he was.

She tilted her face up and kissed him lightly. It had only been three days, but her absence had felt like a mortal wound and now, _now_, he had her back. He crushed her to him once again, breathing in her scent, her being.

"I love you, Granger," he said.

She was crying again, but he knew this time they weren't tears of sadness. "I love you too, Malfoy."

Draco let her go then and kissed her, not too softly, not too deeply. _Enough_.

"Now what?" she asked breathlessly when he released her.

He smiled. "I guess we get our kids and go home."

"Home. I've missed you."

He shook his head and took her hand. "Like air."

**ooo**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Only TWO more to go! Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story!


	10. Chapter 10

**11 Reasons General Theme**: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger  
**Title**: The One Who Knows  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**Word Count**: 1675  
**Prompt**: Table 4 (Sins and Virtues)—_Hope_  
**Notes**: Many thanks to my wonderful beta, eilonwy!

**ooo**

_And shake my head and laugh and say  
It all went by so fast_

**ooo**

Hermione was sitting in the library of her home writing a letter to her parents. It was September the second, at ten o'clock in the morning. The letter was detailed, as her letters usually were. A lot had happened over the course of the last week and Charles and Emily would want to know every single bit.

When she was halfway through the week, her son, Nathan, walked into the room and came to stand beside her chair.

"Hey there," Hermione said, mussing his hair.

"Hey, Mum," he said pulling his head out of her reach. "You got a letter. I gave the owl a treat." He held out his hand, proffering the letter.

"Oh, thank you." She looked down at the envelope in Nathan's hand and immediately recognized her daughter's handwriting and knew exactly what it was. Excitement bubbled inside her and she grinned and she took the letter. "Where's your father?"

"Umm… I think he's outside with Adelaide and Sienna."

"Where are they?" she asked.

"The pitch, I think," he replied, scratching his head.

Hermione smiled. "Of course. Why am I not at all surprised? Why aren't you on the pitch as well?"

Nathan shrugged. "They're doing drills."

"Ah. Your father is convinced he's going to have his Quidditch team."

"Have you _seen_ Adelaide fly?" Nathan said. "It's not happening. Sorry, Dad."

Hermione chuckled. "You're right. I'm afraid she got that from her mother. What are you doing?"

"Well, I was watching, but I think I'm going to read now," Nathan replied.

"All right."

"Maybe later you can play with me."

"Of course! I would absolutely love to. You know what? Come with me to get your dad. I want to see him."

"Okay."

Hermione stood from the desk and set down her quill. She took Nathan's hand in hers and together they made their way to the back garden and then to the pitch, a small version of the real thing that Draco had set up. It had three makeshift hoops for goals and he had marked off the boundaries for half a pitch.

The neighbors all thought it was a little strange but they lived far enough out in the country that Muggles did not generally come across their house and get suspicious of three large hoops on poles at different heights on their property. If anyone did ask, they said it was art.

When they found him, Draco was instructing his two youngest daughters. They were practicing mounting their brooms. Hermione and Nathan stopped a small distance away and she smiled and watched. Adelaide was completely hopeless.

"I think she's got too much of her mum in her," Hermione called, resuming her walk to her family.

Draco looked up, exasperated. "Eh, yeah. I think so."

Adelaide ran to her mum and threw her arms around her knees.

"Hey, Sweetheart," said Hermione, letting go of Nathan's hand to hug her daughter. Then she picked Adelaide up and looked at her husband. "Draco, we…got a letter from Gemma."

His eyes widened. "Oh!"

He knew it was a big letter, an important letter. Neither of them could wait to rip into it.

"Shall we…have a look at it then?" she asked.

Draco glanced at Sienna who was busy hovering a few feet off the ground, looking at her father impatiently. "Why don't you take Laidie and Nathan inside and um, I'll be in a bit."

"Okay," said Hermione.

She took her son's hand and with Adelaide on her hip, took them both inside. They went to the playroom, and she got her children busy with an activity. Draco came in with Sienna after a few minutes and she joined her brother and sister.

"Nathan, would you watch your sisters for just a few minutes? Your father and I want to see what Gemma has to say."

"Okay, Mum," he said absently, not taking his eyes off what he was doing.

Draco and Hermione rushed away like two kids who'd just missed being caught doing something they weren't supposed to do. They were grinning uncontrollably as they hurried toward the closest room in which they could both comfortably sit. Unable to make it that far, they stopped on a bench in the hallway.

"Do you want to open it? Or should I?" she asked.

Draco bit his lip and looked intently at the letter. Then, "You open it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, absolutely. I want you to open it."

"Okay," she said, not needing further encouragement. She ripped into the envelope and pulled out the parchment inside.

"_Dear Mum and Dad,_" she read aloud.

"_Hogwarts is amazing! It's the most incredible place I have ever seen, even more so than Diagon Alley and the Apothecary. I saw Hagrid first thing and he took us across the lake. Everyone was impressed that he knew my name. All of my teachers are really nice and everyone has been very friendly. I have received a few funny looks from some people, but you warned me about that. _

"_Anyway, I know that you are very interested in the Sorting, and so, without further ado… you should know I was sorted into Ravenclaw."_

Hermione stopped reading. "Ravenclaw?"

"What?!" Draco cried, snatching the letter from Hermione and rereading the first few sentences. "Ravenclaw." He said it as though he were tasting something for the first time and was not quite sure what he thought of it.

They looked at each other. "How did that happen?" Hermione said.

"She was a shoo-in for Slytherin!" said Draco.

"**No**, Gryffindor!" argued Hermione.

"Well, at least it's not Hufflepuff."

"Draco," Hermione said, chuckling. Then, "_Ravenclaw!_"

"Who wins the bet, then?" Draco asked, looking at her.

"I don't know! Did anyone put money on Ravenclaw?"

"Someone must have."

"Luna did!" Hermione exclaimed. "She was in Ravenclaw."

"Merlin, she gets a _pile_ of Galleons, doesn't she?" Draco said, mentally calculating the pot.

"Yeah…she was the _only_ person who bet on Ravenclaw."

They were silent for a few moments, and then Draco spoke. "It's not terribly surprising, really. Her mother is brilliant."

Hermione smiled. "Her father isn't exactly a dunce either. After all, he was smart enough to win her mother."

"Oh, very nice," he said with a smile, tickling her for a few seconds and then taking her face in his hands and kissing her tenderly. When he looked into her eyes, he saw nothing but pure love in them, threatening to spill over.

"Finish the letter," she said softly, handing it to him.

"…_I was sorted into Ravenclaw. _

"_A girl I met on the train was sorted into Slytherin. She came to me after the feast and said she thought I was guaranteed to be in her house. I just told her that a person isn't defined by her name."_

Draco stopped reading and set the letter in his lap. He looked at Hermione, who was grinning broadly at him. "She's something, isn't she?" he said.

"Yes, she really is."

They both sat in silence, thinking how amazing their daughter was.

"Nathan is going to be in Slytherin," Draco said after a few minutes.

"That's funny – I was just thinking the same thing, except for Gryffindor. I think Adelaide will be in Gryffindor too." She sighed. "Actually, if I'm honest with myself, I think Nathan will be in Slytherin. I reckon I just _wish_ he will be in Gryffindor. I think Sienna will probably be in Slytherin as well."

He looked at her. "I agree with you about Laidie and Nathan, but I think Sienna will be in your house."

"Oh? Why do you think that?" she asked.

"She's a lot like you—she's got this love of life, an outlook that sees everything as wonderful, the world is magical." He looked at her, his eyes softening. "I've got to say, that outlook of yours is one of the top five reasons I am so in love with you. You _are_ magic, and yet you still think it's amazing when it snows."

Hermione smiled. "Did you finish the letter?"

"No," Draco replied, looking at the parchment. "Almost."

She just huffed and left. I'm looking forward to classes starting soon, though by the time you get this, I will probably have already been through Transfiguration and Potions. I love you both and miss you, but not too much. Don't worry, okay? It's going to be very hard not to want to cheer for either Gryffindor or Slytherin when Quidditch starts, but I expect I'll be a fully-fledged Ravenclaw in no time.

Love you and miss you!

Gemma.

Draco folded the letter and returned it to Hermione. "For your stash."

She looked at him quizzically.

"I know you've got a box hidden away in some secret compartment in the library for each of our children. I know you put in letters, pictures…anything special for you to remember them by."

Hermione sighed. "They grow up so fast! Gemma is eleven already, Draco. Soon, Nathan will be headed to Hogwarts, and then Sienna, and Adelaide…"

He took her hand in his. "And then Gemma will get married, and we'll have grandchildren…"

"No!" Hermione cried, laughing. "I do not want to think about that yet!"

Draco wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. "All right, love. There will be time enough for that when it comes. I think right now we should join our kids in their playtime." He stood up and extended his hand. "After all, before you know it, they'll be sending home letters of their own from Hogwarts."

Hermione took his hand and he pulled her up. She had a soft smile on her face and she suddenly hugged Draco, burying her face in his chest.

"What is it, love?"

"Hold me, will you? Don't let me go."

He pulled her tight against him.

"Never."

She held him tightly for a few precious seconds until a mischievous thought crept into her mind and she acted on it, tickling him in his most ticklish spot. He pulled away from her and ran after her, laughing, toward the playroom.

**ooo **

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Only one more ficlet to go in this writing challenge! Thank you for sticking with this little story and me. :)**  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**11 Reasons General Theme**: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger  
**Title**: The One Who Knows  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**Word Count**: 2230  
**Prompt**: Table WC (Tarot – Major Arcana (Part One))— _Wheel of Fortune: turning point_  
**Notes**: Many thanks to my wonderful beta, eilonwy! This table had almost nothing to do with Harry Potter, but I thought a turning point was appropriate. This is the last piece of this story! Many, many thanks to those of you who have kept with it from the beginning!

**ooo**

_You'll fly away, but take my hand until that day  
__So when they ask how far love goes  
__When my job's done you'll be  
__The one who knows._

**ooo**

Draco smiled to himself as he caught a snatch of his wife's laughter from somewhere in the room. It was distinctive and beautiful, and he could pick it out in any crowd. He continued filling his punch cup and then filled another for her, knowing that at any moment she would seek him out.

He turned around to face the room. It was full of important Ministry people, publishing people, and Hermione's closest friends and family. Around the room small groups were talking and in the center, many were dancing. It still amazed him at the realization that she was his family and she had given him a daughter. Growing up, he had never pictured such a life and now he couldn't imagine life any other way.

Draco glanced around the room looking for Hermione. He saw her heading toward him and his breath caught in his throat. She was simply captivating in a shimmery, copper-coloured dress, dark brown, shiny heels and a wrap in shades of teal and copper.

"Evening, Beautiful," he said as she reached him, handing her the cup of punch he had poured.

"Thank you," she said with a strained smile, taking a small sip and looking around warily. After a moment, she looked at him and gave him a genuine smile. "Another excellent speech, Mr. Malfoy."

He grinned. "And you delivered it brilliantly, as you always do."

Hermione's smile faltered and she stared into her punch cup. "Another excellent speech," she repeated quietly. Then she shook her head and set her cup on the table. "Dance with me?" she asked, holding her hand out.

"As you wish," he said, entwining his fingers with hers. He led her onto the dance floor and they stayed near the edge. Though the song was a faster one, they danced slowly, Hermione resting her head on Draco's chest as he wrapped his arms securely around her waist. They swayed together as though they heard a different tune.

Draco would have been content to hold her all night if she wanted, but after a few songs, he saw her casually wipe her eye, trying not to let him see. He frowned and leaned his head down to whisper in her ear.

"What's wrong, love?"

She sniffed. "It's all the same," she said, indicating the room around her. "Five years now, and it's still just a party for Harry! Oh, and on your way out, donate a few hundred Galleons to Harry's latest charity."

Draco chuckled. "Tonight isn't about Harry, you know that. It's about you and the award you won for your book."

Hermione scoffed. "I sincerely hope you don't really believe that, Draco. My speech was a total of about five minutes. For nearly an hour before that, various speakers talked about Harry, then about the history of the award, then about Harry again and all the wonderful things his memorial fund has accomplished over the last five years." Hermione pulled out of his arms, too agitated to stay even that confined. "And you know, Draco, I've been thinking lately that I was only given the award so that today, five years to the _day_ after Harry died, they would have an easy excuse to throw a party."

Draco sighed. "I think they gave you the award because you deserve it, Hermione. Because you told the world the truth about your friend and you were amazing in your story-telling."

She bit her lip and crossed her arms over her chest. "But did anyone in this room actually _read_ the book? I know I said more than once that Harry never wanted to be immortalized, or his name used to further causes ... I used the example of the former Minister trying to get Harry to show support during the war."

Draco took hold of her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I'm not sure things are ever going to change. The Ministry somehow managed to get the rights to Harry's name and nothing you or Ron have done to change it has been successful. I...I think it's time you accepted that and moved on."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she jerked out of Draco's hold. She turned, looking for some escape, but saw only people who wanted to congratulate her and then buy her a drink in Harry's memory.

She put a hand to her forehead and spun to face Draco once more. "Merlin, Draco—I can't," she said angrily. "I can't put my friend behind me. You read the reviews…they want to vilify me, make me out as unstable, that I just have a personal vendetta against the Ministry. Yet despite those reviews, the Ministry is giving me an award? It's only because of Harry! But he deserves more than endless accolades, even through this sham award, and I won't rest until I give it to him!"

A few people nearest them turned to look as Hermione's voice steadily climbed in volume.

Draco's voice was firm when he spoke. "You can't do it all, Hermione. There are some things you cannot control. This is one of those things. Let it _go_."

Her eyes blazed with passion and anger as she answered him. "How can you say that?" she said, trying to speak forcefully without yelling. Nonetheless, more people's attentions were drawn to them. "You're supposed to be on _my_ side!"

He closed the small distance between them and said calmly, "Of course I'm on your side. There's no need to get upset."

"Oh, I'm not even close to upset and you know it," she hissed.

They looked at each other for a few moments, then Draco grabbed her hand. "Come with me. There's something I want to show you." The edge in his voice and the look in his eyes were so sharp that Hermione didn't protest, only followed as he led her out of the room.

He retrieved their cloaks from the attendant and slipped Hermione's around her shoulders. He sent her a determined glance and then Disapparated them both.

They arrived in a small graveyard. Hermione gasped and clung to Draco's arm. "Where are we? And why in Merlin's name did you bring me _here_?"

"This way," he said roughly, and pulled her after him until he found their destination. He stopped and pulled her in front of him and held her firmly in place. "Tell me what you see."

"Draco," she started, her voice trembling.

"Tell me," he repeated almost bitingly, his tone unyielding.

"Draco, why?" she pleaded. He could hear the tears threatening to fall from her eyes shut tight.

"Because it's time."

Hermione whimpered and then quietly read. "Harry James Potter. 1980 to 1999. The world owes you an incalculable debt."

Draco loosened his grip on her and she staggered into him, leaning heavily against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. "What does that mean?" he asked, speaking gently into her ear.

"It—it means Harry killed Voldemort."

"Yes, but what else?"

"I don't—"

"The dates. What do they mean? The last one, especially."

"Draco," Hermione said, tears now falling freely. "Please, stop—"

"No," he said. "Not until you see, Hermione. _What do they mean?"_

"**He's dead!"** she yelled, anger lacing her words. "Are you happy? I said it—Harry is dead!" She collapsed in his arms and then sank to her knees.

Draco got on his knees in front of her and turned her chin to look at him. "He's dead. And the thing about dead people is that they don't care what's going on here."

The tears ran in a constant stream down her face.

"Harry doesn't care how his name is being misused, or his memory trampled on. In life, he cared about you, and Ron and Ginny. It doesn't matter what everyone else thinks about him, so long as you three _remember_ him, love him, and let him go."

"I—I just want people to know him," Hermione said. "Is that so wrong?"

Draco finally smiled. "No, of course not. And you've done that through the book you wrote. It…is amazing, every single word. Your friendship, your love for Harry was evident on every page. People…" He paused. "These people whom you so desperately want to 'know' Harry are as fickle as the wind. They will read your book and call it the best piece of non-fiction ever printed. Next day, they will see an article in the Prophet claiming Harry…I don't know…loved the Dark Arts, and they will believe that too."

Hermione smiled bitterly through her tears.

"You cannot tell people what they refuse to hear. The Ministry has presented an image of Harry that the masses want to cling to…benevolent, almost saint-like. Let them have that—_you_ have Harry. Stop fighting this battle you cannot win, my love. It's killing me to see you so constantly torn."

Her eyes met his, full now of concern for him. "Oh, Draco," she said, flinging herself into his arms. He held her tightly, running his fingers through her hair and kissing the top of her head.

"I'm not sure I can let him go," she said finally, shakily.

"Hermione, you are the only person who hasn't!" Draco pulled her back to look at her. "Ginny is marrying Blaise in a few months, and Ron…well, Ron honors Harry in his own way, but he isn't clinging to him the way you are."

"I'm scared, Draco. Harry has been part of my life almost from the moment I stepped into the wizarding world. If I let him go…it's just me."

Draco raised an eyebrow and released her, sitting down on the ground. Unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice, he said, "Just you, huh? I'll let Gemma know when we pick her up from your mum's."

Hermione shook her head. "You know what I meant."

"No, honestly, I don't. It's _never_ been 'just you.' You have always had Ron and Ginny, and more recently, me. You _married_ me. It won't be 'just you' until I'm right here with Potter." He chuckled. "Even then, you will have Gemma and…whatever else life brings us." He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Maybe that Quidditch team."

She gave him a small smile. "I never meant I would be alone, just that if I let Harry go, I would have to let part of myself go too."

Draco reached his hand up and gently traced the line of her jaw. "I'm not letting a single piece of you go, Hermione. Harry will simply have to understand my selfishness. He will forgive you for letting me keep all of you."

Tears filled her eyes and she took his hands in hers.

"All of my past includes Harry."

"You will always have that. But your future is not Harry. It never has been." He smiled. "Not from the moment you kissed me in the drawing room of Headquarters."

Hermione rested her hand on his cheek and softly rubbed her thumb on his skin. He leaned into her touch.

"Of course you are my future." She sighed. "Even after all these years, I still haven't completely accepted that Harry is gone, really and truly." She looked at the headstone in front of her. "But he is. And…and you're right, it's time I let him go."

Draco smiled. "Our daughter is going to be hungry and we only left enough food to last through dinner."

Hermione nodded. "I want to say goodbye."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

"No," she answered, standing and brushing the leaves and dirt from her dress. "I want you here, with me."

Draco stood and took her small hand in his. Hermione faced the mound of earth covered with a lush carpet of green grass. A few colorful wildflowers dotted the otherwise monochromatic landscape before them.

She squeezed his hand. "Hi, Harry," she started. Draco wasn't sure she would be able to continue, but after a moment, she did. "Hermione here. I've come to say goodbye. I will always remember you and the really good times we had between all the hard, terrifying times. I could never, ever forget you, and I miss you, I do…" She squeezed Draco's hand again, this time holding it clenched longer.

"I want you to know that I'm doing well. Draco is taking very good care of me—you don't have to worry about me. Can you believe it?" she said with a chuckle. "Malfoy! Of all people…that's my name now, too. We have a little girl, Gemma…she's nearly one. And…"

She looked up at Draco and he was taken aback at her sudden radiance. "I cannot imagine ever being happier."

He smiled at her. "Nor I. Harry," he added quickly, glancing at the headstone.

"So it's you and me," she said, looking at him.

Draco looked at her. "Indeed it is."

"Good. I like us."

He wrapped his arm around Hermione and kissed the top of her head. She inched closer to him and leaned further into the shelter of his arms. They stood there, looking at the Potter's plot. A soft wind blew the scent of fallen leaves and the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the scene. High overhead a flock of birds flew on their way to warmer climes.

The world was just as it should be; they were together. All would be well.

**ooo**

**A/N:** Thanks again for reading! For those of you who are curious, the chronological order for the chapters of this story are: 8, 3, 5, 2, 6, 1, 7, 4, 11, 9, 10. I think. LOL! I hope you've enjoyed these little scenes from the lives of Draco and Hermione. I know I had a lot of fun writing them! Until next time!


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